Fading Memories

For reasons best known to it's pseudo Celtic roots I suppose, Inverloch seemed to be the sort of place which invited all manner of contemplation.

We have been overwhelmed by the number of on-site vans and cabins along the Victorian coast in particular. We've watched over time as panel vans and two man tents have been usurped by lumbering motorhomes and caravans which seem to be larger than heavy vehicles were when we were growing up,  and now with so many permanent structures filling the camp grounds, we wonder if there will be anywhere to pitch the tent in coming years.

But more interesting perhaps is the ubiquitous dispenser of commercial toilet tissue to be found in each amenities block.  

For reasons which beggar contemplation, the dispensers are set well down and aft in the cubical in which they are located, making it impossible to tear off a polite length.   It comes out a yard at a time, twisted and crumpled at the ends with a small usable bit in the middle, but it is so thin than employing less than three layers is a precarious pastime indeed.  One can only suspect that purchasing  a more sensibly specified product located in a less anthropometrically challenged position could save half of the trees felled in Tasmania each year. 

Is there coincidence in the observation that the particular tissue in question is as fine and delicate as the best of its type used in flash jewellery stores to wrap parcels of special significance?

Ahh, tonight we're in Lake's Entrance so who knows what tomorrow will bring.